Unforgettable: An Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Tale
by jemos
Summary: Willow grew up as an orphan and a thief. No one ever paid any attention to her; she was just a "street rat" in other's eyes. After spending all her life as a nobody, will she be able to cope with the realization that she is the Dragonborn? And will the introduction of the Companions into her life spark an unyielding flame in her heart for one of their very own members?
1. Chapter 1

(Hi everyone! I just wanted to say thank you for reading and that I hope you enjoy my story. This is my first fanfiction on here, and I can't wait to get some feedback. :) I know this chapter goes kind of slow and is short, but it's just a bit of history behind the main character before everything starts unfolding. :3 Comments and reviews make me happy.^^ Oh! And just so you know, some of the events won't happen exactly as they did in the game. Some will, some won't. Now, enjoy. :) )

Willow tugged her fur cloak up closer to her face, hoping the thick hood would block some of the bone-chilling, icy wind from stealing her breath away. She was just outside of Whiterun; the Wood Elf had went hunting during the early hours of the morning, successfully killing two plump rabbits and a quail. Willow always tried to keep her food supply stocked full... She never knew when she might need it. Fresh fruits, crisp vegetables, and dried meats filled the pantries and shelves in her small kitchen.

Her steps quickened as the last rays of golden sun passed behind the long stretch of jagged mountaintops. She wanted to reach Breezehome before nightfall; winters in Skyrim were terribly harsh. The frigid air could pull all the oxygen from a traveler's lungs, and the heavy blankets of snow made it hard to get anywhere.

After killing her first dragon and unknowingly saving the lives of Whiterun's citizens, the Jarl more than willingly appointed her as Thane, also graciously giving her the key to the small, empty cottage by the name of Breezehome located in the Plains district. He ignored her humble excuses about not needing anything in return, urging her to become the Thane and settle down in Whiterun with no intent on accepting anything but yes as an answer.

When the people got word of Willow's exploits, whispers followed her everywhere she stepped foot.

"There's the Dragonborn..."

"She used her voice to kill that dragon...!"

"I heard that she stole its very soul."

Growing up on the streets of Riften, Willow wasn't used to this kind of attention. As a matter of fact, it made her downright uncomfortable. Throughout much of her childhood and adolescent years, no one had ever given her a second glance, not wanting to waste their time on an orphan... a street rat. Willow scraped by as she got older in life by being a thief. She pick-pocketed, stole food, did whatever she could to survive. Never had she depended on any one else but herself. She had been such a successful thief that even the Thieves' Guild themselves had never saw or heard of her, and they were always quick to try and recruit new members, their eyes constantly peeled.

Her sad life in Riften was due to her parents dying when she was very young. They had been on a perilous journey through the bandit-infested lands outside of their hometown, and had told her to stay safe in the confines of their home. Being the obedient daughter that she was, Willow waited patiently for days, and then weeks.

They never returned.

Once the news spread that little Willow of Raymond and Silvia Redmoon was living by herself at the tender young age of six, the people would hear nothing of it. It didn't matter that bright-eyed, long-haired baby Willow could already take care of herself.

The harsh, spiteful owner of Riften's orphanage, named Grelod the Kind, cared nothing for her or any of the other children. She was hateful and repeatedly reminded the parentless offspring that they were all alone and that no one loved them. She made life at the orphanage a living hell.

Willow kept to herself, unwilling to become attached to any of the others for fear of having them slip away like her mother and father had.

When an orphan reached fifteen, they were free to do as they pleased. Willow immediately left the orphanage and began living on the streets, stealing what she could when she needed food or coin. This poor excuse for a life continued until she was eighteen. Her thieving skills had skyrocketed by this point; after three years of picking locks and pockets day in and day out, there was no way she wouldn't have gained a profusion of experience in the "Dark Arts."

Willow left Riften with what little gold she had accumulated over her time out on the streets, dedicating her time to traveling and adventuring, wishing to make a better life for herself than what she had been used to.

Now, she was twenty-one years old.

She had seen many things, done many more, and now had a place to call home in Whiterun. Willow just had to figure out how she was going to cope with the new knowledge of being the Dragonborn.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been about a month since Willow had killed the dragon outside of Whiterun and discovered that she was the Dragonborn.

She really didn't know what to do with this information. She was still the same wood elf... yet most people had awed looks upon their faces when they heard the word "Dragonborn" fall from another's lips and when their fingers pointed in Willow's direction.

It was hard, but she tried to keep attention away from herself. She didn't want people to treat her any differently, but she knew that would be impossible.

Inside her home, Willow placed a few of her extra items into the chest at the foot of her bed to take some of the weight from her pack. Her night's sleep hadn't been very restful; images of dragons devastating her new home haunted her dreams. Morning had came too fast; when she awoke, she decided to spend the entire day in Whiterun. She hadn't been able to do that yet; everyday someone new was asking her for help or wanting her to do a task for them.

Most of the time she didn't mind; she wanted to help those who needed it. She knew what it was like not to have anything, and she wouldn't have wished the same upon anybody. But today, Willow just wanted to try and relax. She hadn't even had a chance to explore the whole town yet. It _was _her new home... She figured that she should at least attempt to get to know it a little better.

Willow lifted her leather pack over her shoulders, noticing how oddly light it felt. It was still weird for her to have a place to actually put her belongings.

When she had left Riften to travel, she didn't own hardly anything. The clothes on her back and what few septims she had gathered over the years were about all she could claim as hers. No one had ever taught her to fight, so when she left, she taught herself.

Willow spent hours each day practicing on whatever she could find - be that a tree, a rock, a lone bandit. After a while, her knuckles had become calloused. Her muscles were stronger; she had much more stamina and could definitely take a beating. There had been many times near the beginning that the small wood elf had gotten the living hell knocked out of her, but that only spurred her desire to become a better fighter.

It took time, much time, but she also improved her other skills. When she had reached Whiterun and killed the dragon, she was an expert in many fields, but especially archery, one-handed weapons, sneaking, lockpicking, and pickpocketing.

Now, most people probably wouldn't believe it, but Willow _did _have morals. Although she was an exceptionally good thief, she made a vow never to steal from the poor or those she cared about. She also planned on never stealing from anyone in Whiterun. She wanted to show some respect to the place that had warmly taken her in when she had no true place to call home.

The day was just beginning and the warming rays of the morning sunlight were peeking in through her windows. Willow glanced down at her hand-made leather armor, rediscovering for the thousandth time that it wasn't in the best shape that it could be. Numerous scuffs, scratches, and tears marred the thick skins that she had forged into perfectly-fitting armor. But, she had no intention of discarding the apparel any time soon; not until it was hanging off of her in ribbons would she ever even _consider _getting rid of it all. It was the first set of armor she had ever made, and it was damn fine, if she did say so, herself.

The female Bosmer subconsciously tugged at the straps on her pack, tightening them slightly. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was nervous to meet the people in Whiterun. Really, the only ones she had been introduced to were the Jarl and his court and some of the guards. Even though she didn't want any extra attention, she did want to be polite to those in her town. Thief or not, she had manners.

Willow slowly stepped out of Breezehome, locking the door behind her and placing the skeleton key into her pocket. The air was cold, but the sun was warm, and the two went perfectly together.

Unsure of where to start, she walked casually up towards the center of the market, making an effort to try and at least meet everyone who worked at the carts. The petite wood elf then chose to go to some of the shops, the inn, the bar, and other such places. She made it a point not to go and knock onto anyone's doors; she didn't want them to think she was a little girl trying to sell sweet rolls or anything.

On her way up into the next level of Whiterun, Willow caught herself watching some of the Hold's children darting about, deep in a game of tag. A faint smile pulled her lips upward, until she walked right into a cold, hard wall.

Feeling like a fool, she shook her head and glared up at the stones with pure, crimson eyes, blinking when she realized that had, in fact, not been a wall at all.

In front of her stood a tall, muscular Nord man with the strangest, most alluring pair of silver eyes that she had ever seen. For some reason, she couldn't look away. His eyes were like smouldering, melted steel; they held so much power, so much emotion...

"Excuse you." A dark, low, rumbling voice pulled her back to the present. Slowly piecing together what had just happened, her cheeks burned with embarrassment and she looked away from those magnetic eyes, hurriedly spewing a string of apologies.

"S-Sorry...! I didn't see you there, I was-..." Willow sputtered, pausing once she saw that the dark-haired man was already walking away. A frown pulled her brows downward, and soon, another deep voice caught her attention.

"Sorry about my brother. He can be that way sometimes. My name is Farkas." The man held out an enormous, battle-scarred hand, smiling sincerely. He had those same grey eyes, but his were brighter, more cheerful. His hair was a bit longer and vaguely lighter than his apparent brother's, and he was even taller, with an unbelievably built form.

The elf, dwarfed in comparison to the Nord, gave a faint smile and shook his hand.

"I'm Willow."

"Oh! You must be the one everyone keeps talking about. You're the Dragonborn, right?" Farkas stated matter-of-factly, tilting his head to the side.

At the mention of her new title, Willow cringed inside.

_Everyone must know who I am now... _She thought unhappily to herself.

Nodding once, she allowed her slender arm to fall back to her side.

"Yep. Guess that's me..." Willow muttered, looking off to the side.

The giant of a man smiled again, the gesture lighting up his whole face.

"You should come by Jorrvaskr sometime. Kodlak would like you." And with that, Farkas trailed after his brother.

(Okay! Second chapter is done. :) Hope you enjoyed it! Again, this one went a bit slow what with all the background information and such, but things will soon be getting interesting. :3 I greatly appreciate follows, comments, reviews... anything that you have to give me as feedback helps me to become a better writer. ^^)


	3. Chapter 3

"I'd like to become a Companion." Willow said, her chin held high. She wanted nothing more than to impress Kodlak.

After her run-in with Farkas and his brother, whose name she found out was Vilkas, she had immediately asked around Whiterun to find out exactly who the Companions were. She had heard of them, but never knew what they stood for or who was among their ranks.

Now standing before the white-haired Harbinger of the Companions, Willow set her jaw, showing confidence and determination.

Kodlak arched his greying brow slightly, eyeing the small wood elf with a sense of curiosity. "Would you now? Here, let me have a look at you. Hm... Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit." His bright, intelligent silver eyes showed appreciation.

The Nord that Willow had slammed into earlier the same day stared at her from the opposite side of the table as the Harbinger, a disbelieving frown etched upon his rugged, masculine features.

"You're not truly thinking about accepting her, are you...?" Vilkas never took his steeled gaze off of the wood elf, imprisoning her with his ardent eyes.

She bit back a shudder at the intensity and heat of his stare, watching him with hidden frustration at his negative demeanor towards her. What had she done to him to deserve this attitude...?

Kodlak's old, rumbling voice helped her to stand strong. "Vilkas, last I checked, we have some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts. How are you in battle, girl?"

Willow responded truthfully. "I can take care of myself."

The Harbinger nodded once, his patient eyes landing on Vilkas again. "You will test the Bosmer's arm. Take her out to the yard and see what she can do."

Relieved that she would at least be offered a chance to earn her name among the ranks of the highly-respected Companions, Willow heard a barely audible sigh come from the fiery-eyed Nord as he made his way to the courtyard, not even bothering to see if she was folllowing. The wood elf silently walked along behind him at a safe distance. As they stepped in silence, she thought to herself.

_Why do I even want to join the Companions...? As soon as they find out that I was a thief for more than half my life, they'll kick me out. _

Willow found her deep, maroon eyes locked onto the muscular Nord's back as he led the way outside, silently admiring the corded muscles that ran down his tanned arms. She had just met him today, if you can even call that _meeting _someone, and something within her heart had stirred. Something that she had never felt before; it tugged at her soul, urging her to get to know this mysterious, gruff man.

She knew that the main reason she decided to join the Companions was because of _him. _He affected in her in ways that no one else ever had.

The Bosmer also wanted to bring about some changes in her life. Since she now had a permanent home and had already vowed not to steal from Whiterun, she had chosen to also leave the life of a thief for good.

Now, she didn't have to steal. Willow didn't have to pickpocket for coin or pick locks in order to swipe some food so she wouldn't starve at night.

Although it was what she was used to, the elf wanted something different. Something _more._ She knew that in order to continue making her life better, she had to say goodbye to the ways of the thief. And she wanted nothing more than to do just that. It was time to live life without hiding in the shadows and sleeping on the streets with nothing to eat for days on end. It was time for a new beginning.

Vilkas walked out into the yard, turning to face the tiny elf with an obvious anger visible in his silver irises.

_Why did he have to test out the newcomer? Anyone else could have done it... She probably wouldn't even be able to prove herself worthy of joining the Companions, anyway. _Vilkas thought to himself, irritated at Kodlak's judgement. Eyeing her deteriorating light armor and seemingly dull weapons helped to further support his theory.

When the Bosmer girl had ran into him this morning, he had thought she was just another person passing through. But once they were out of earshot, Farkas had told him that _she _was the Dragonborn.

How could she have been the one to save all of Skyrim? She couldn't even watch where she was going. He didn't even know what she looked like; she was covered from head-to-toe in banged-up leather armor. Even her face wasn't visible under that ugly, androgynous helmet. Everything was hidden, except for those passionate, fierce red eyes...

Vilkas shook the thoughts from his mind, pulling his large sword from its sheath on his side. He smirked, knowing that this little "test" would be over soon enough.

"Alright, newblood. Just hit me with a few swings so I can see your form. Don't worry... I can take it." His pure, molten silver eyes cast a devious glimmer at Willow, as if he was taunting her.

_He thinks I can't fight. Well, damn it, I'll show him otherwise! _Willow thought furiously.

Out of view of everyone but the powerful Nord, Willow bent her knees, a snarl on her pink lips. If Vilkas wanted to see what she could do, by Sovngarde, she would let him see! She would make him respect her, one way or another.

With a sudden cry, Willow unsheathed both of her hand-crafted swords at once and leaped into the air, heading straight for Vilkas's body. He quickly stepped out of the way, parrying one of her strikes with his iron shield, the other sharp blade barely scraping his cheek. He kept his face emotionless, directing his own blow towards her open side.

The agile elf rolled underneath his broad sword, jumping up behind the strong Nord and landing a very small nick along his unprotected neck. Vilkas growled softly, turning around to face her so quickly that it almost seemed inhuman. His biceps rippled as he shot out the tip of his blade towards the wood elf's stomach, not planning to injure her, just show her who was boss.

Surprisingly, the female darted to the right of his sword, moving out of the way of the weapon. Faster than lightning, Vilkas used his close proximity to the elf to bounce back and land a small cut along her forearm as she twisted to try and avoid the sharp edge. She then backed up to get enough distance between her opponent and herself in order to get a running start.

With unbelievable speed and grace, the small elf bolted straight for the skillful male, going for Vilkas's arms so that she could knock his longsword and shield free of his iron grasp. Her blades just barely missed his wrists before the man abruptly used all his weight to tackle her and force her to the stone ground, earning an unprepared huff from the elf as all the air escaped her lungs.

The impact knocked her leather helmet off her head, causing it to go rolling a few feet away near the straw dummies used for practice. A heavy silence created an awkward tension in the air as Vilkas pinned the small Bosmer down, secretly bewildered at the amount of strength she showed as she attempted to writhe free of his arms and legs.

He formed a prison over her slender body, staring down blankly at the newly-revealed face of the Dragonborn.

She thrashed about, suddenly getting an arm loose and clawing at her opponent's unrelenting grip.

"Let me go!" Willow snarled, already mortified that her helmet had flown off in front of the last person she wanted it to. She tried hard to keep any extra attention away from her; now, her attempts were in vain.

Vilkas let his heated gaze roam over the female elf's face as he held her down, looming over top of her like a predator. She had finally stopped trying to fight him off, now just looking back up into his smoldering stare with her own piercing crimson one.

Long, wavy tendrils of chocolate brown hair spilled out from where her helmet once confined it, spiraling out all over the mossy ground. Her smooth, tanned skin was virtually perfect, other than a thin scar that ran down her left cheek, beginning under her eye. Thick, dark lashes framed wide, sparkling, wine-red eyes as she blinked up at him, her full, fleshy lips parted slightly as the shallow breaths left her body from their previous battle. Olive green war paint contrasted against her skin, with one line above her left brow and two lines underneath her left eye. Delicate, pointed elven ears twitched as his soft, hot breaths hit the sensitive skin.

Bewildered, the male continued to let his intense stare bore into her eyes, shocked at the surreal beauty that lay underneath the Bosmer's worm armor. His mind wandered and he wondered what lay beneath the rest of her apparel, their noses an inch away from one another's.

Abruptly, Willow jerked her arms free from the Nord's unbearably heavy grip, soon ripping her legs out from under him, as well.

Although the warmth from his figure had pleasantly been radiating onto her from her position under his dominating pin, she wanted to get far away from him, and fast.

The swift elf scrambled up, scooping her helmet from the stones and dumping it onto her head in a hurry, exiting the courtyard without a word to her "trainer." Her cheeks felt like they werepon fire.

She ran out of Jorrvaskr's main doors, sprinting towards Whiterun's main gates and out of them before anyone knew which way she had went.

(Longest chapter yet. ^^ Thank you for reading! I hope you have had as much fun reading so far as I have had writing it.~ More will come soon. Reviews, favorites, and follows help to keep me motivated and inspired.3 Much appreciation!)


	4. Chapter 4

_Where am I supposed to go...? _

Willow stumbled blindly outside of Whiterun, too upset to form coherent thoughts. Her wide, piercing red eyes landed suddenly on the carriage nearby and she practically sprinted over to it, being sure to tug her helmet down even further before she spoke to the driver in a rushed voice.

"Please... Here..." The small wood elf grabbed the man's hand and hurriedly deposited a generous amount of 100 gold coins into his outstretched palm, not bothering to meet his eyes.

"Just go... Take me somewhere far away from here."

She scampered back to the open carriage and leapt in, keeping her gaze glued onto the wooden boards. Without a word, obviously sensing that the woman wanted to get away quickly, the driver smacked the leather reins once before commanding the horse to take off.

They sped down the bumpy road, headed nowhere fast.

Vilkas felt a slight tickle on his cheek and reached up, wiping the back of his large hand across his stubbled face. He pulled his hand away and noticed the red color staining his fingertips, remembering when the svelte wood elf had managed to get in a few cuts during their session.

How she had done it, Vilkas had no clue. Most newcomers did horrible when they were tested, but the Bosmer had excelled in basically every aspect of fighting... Strength, Agility, Speed, Blocking... He was amazed by her finesse and power in battle.

Never would he have thought that such expertise could come from an elf like her...

Vilkas shot up off the ground from where he had been crouching, eyes suddenly alight with confusion and guilt.

"Where is she going...? I should apologize..." He grumbled to himself, barging through Jorrvaskr's heavy doors and jogging towards his brother's room.

"Farkas!" He barked before he even reached the door, pounding on it impatiently.

"Farkas! What was the Dragonborn girl's name?"

Farkas's deep voice greeted his brother as he pulled open the door. "Willow. Why were you wondering, brother?" The taller of the two arched his dark brow curiously, waiting for a response.

Vilkas shook his head, swiftly running back down the long hallway while speaking over his shoulder to his sibling. "I just needed to know." Came his gravelly, clipped response as he bolted out of Jorrvaskr.

His sensitive, blazing silver eyes just barely caught a glimpse of Willow's small, dark, leather-clad figure as the carriage carried her far beyond the visible hillside.

He had no idea why it mattered to much to him that he said he was sorry, but he felt his heartbeat race as he darted to the stables just outside of Whiterun.

"Need to borrow a horse... Be back soon!" He threw a small, yet overflowing coin pouch at the stable hand's feet, gracefully hoisting himself onto the bare back of the muscular stallion. He firmly grasped the white mane of the silver steed before giving it a quick nudge in its sides.

The glistening creature took off out of the stables and instinctively followed the rocky trail away from the city, responsive to Vilkas's commands as he urged the horse faster.

Willow held her head in her slender hands, sighing deeply.

_Why did I let him see me like that...? No one has ever seen me without my helmet... He'll tell everyone and now every person I pass will know who I am..._

The Bosmer girl gritted her teeth, confused as to why she was so upset with herself and with Vilkas. She had just met him today, for Akatosh's sake! It's not like their brief time together had meant anything...

Besides, he was a jerk. An absolute asshole.

Willow let her hands fall to her sides, exhausted. She made a final decision not to think about Vilkas anymore, because it was pointless. The elf glanced back towards the tiny splotch of Whiterun in the distance against the darkening sky, breathing out gently. She knew she had to return home at some point, but not anytime soon. She would probably forget about joining the Companions once she got back - she didn't want to have to see _ him _everyday.

A barely-audible, repetitive sound shook the small elf from her thoughts. It got louder quite quickly, and soon she could see a large, shadowed shape coming straight towards the carriage. She immediately readied her bow and nocked an arrow, aiming directly for the oncoming figure. Right as she was about to send the tip slicing through the stranger's forehead, it passed under a beam of moonlight and she froze.

With his jaw set and his mouth in a thin, determined line, Vilkas rapidly approached the cart. His dark, almost black hair was pushed away from his chiseled face from the freezing wind. Once he was a few feet behind the carriage, he slowed his horse to a trot and made his way easily to the side of the wooden wagon.

He stared at the wood elf with an unrecognizable emotion in his burning, liquid steel eyes, not breaking her gaze as she unknowingly kept her arrow pointed at him. Her mouth hung open slightly as she watched him, bewildered as to why _he, _of all people, was here.

Vilkas was the first one to speak. "Why are you running?"

The Bosmer woman slowly lowered her weapon, still holding it in her tired fingers. Eyeing the masculine Nord warily, she frowned at him. "None of your business."

At the sharp edge in her voice, the male had to bite back a smirk. He discovered in a hurry that he was particularly fond of her feisty attitude. Letting go of the beautiful stallion's flowing mane, Vilkas stretched his arms over his head, more in a display of muscles to the elf than anything.

And it worked.

He watched how her blood-red irises flicked almost imperceptively to the thick, hard lines of muscles along his forearms and what was visible of his biceps, her face devoid of any kind of displeasure or discomfort at the show. Her rigid, tense limbs seemed to relax ever-so-slightly.

Casually, the silken, sultry voice of the man found Willow's pointed ears again.

"I think it quite _is _my business... considering how you were so angry towards me when you stormed out of Jorrvaskr."

The female's expression suddenly turned livid, her stare scorching. Vilkas could almost _feel _the heat coming from her gaze. It made him shudder as thoughts of that exact passion flitted through his mind, but in a more... sensual way. He imagined her lithe body beneath him as they lay tangled under silk bedsheets, with candles lining the room and rose petals decorating the floor...

He was torn from his fantasy at the sound of Willow's furious voice.

"Maybe I was angry towards you because you've treated me like shit ever since I first met you this morning! You walked away from me when I tried to apologize for bumping into you, then when I decided that I wanted to join the Companions, you shot me down like I'm some no good, worthless pile of dead Skeevers, _before _you even saw me fight! Why SHOULDN'T I be mad at you, you... you... asshole!" Willow fumed, her fists clenched so tight that her nails were digging into her flesh. Intense, angry heat radiated off of her in waves as Vilkas just stared, shocked. No one had ever talked to him that way before.

Of course, by this point, the carriage driver had completely stopped and turned around to watch the scene with huge eyes. His mouth had fallen open long ago.

"What... did you just call me?" The Nord breathed, his eyes hardened like metal. His own horse had quit walking, now standing behind the cart.

The fiery wood elf held his dark gaze, her lip quivering in fury.

"You heard me. Asshole."

Before another breath could be taken, Villas had leapt off his stallion, jumped up onto the carriage, and roughly grasped Willow's shoulders. With his nose about an inch from hers, he spoke slowly, enunciating each word.

"Don't. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again. Do you understand?" His tone was merciless, demanding, solid.

Unflinching, the short elven woman stood to meet him, still having to look up to see his face. Her words were hot against his already boiling skin.

"You. Don't. Tell. Me. What. To. Do. Got it?" With a jerk, she catapulted off the side of the cart, landing lightly on the balls of her feet. Her tanned cheeks were red with anger. Unwilling to just let it go yet, Willow unsheathed her two matching steel swords and bent her knees slightly, watching the man with spiteful eyes.

"You want me to prove to you that I can kick your ass? 'Cause I will." She murmured, itching for a fight. Her nerves were on fire.

Vilkas landed with a metallic thump as his armor knocked together once his feet met the earth, his mouth twitching. He slowly pulled out his greatsword, his shining silver eyes flaming with eagerness.

"Show me, then."

As soon as the words fell from his lips, the elf charged at him, her battle cry echoing off the trees around them. They both swung, their weapons clashing loudly. The two were matched in skill; Willow's quick steps and fast-moving strikes were balanced by Vilkas's heavy blows and notable defense.

They kept it up for at least an hour, and by this point, the cart driver had already left the scene, tired of waiting. Both of the fighters had earned numerous scrapes, bruises, and cuts, but nothing immensely serious. Although they would never admit it, neither Willow nor Vilkas had wanted to hurt the other.

Once their energy and steam had ran out, they kneeled a few feet away from one another, their bodies heaving with erratic breathing and their skin layered with a sheen of sweat. Finally catching his breath, Vilkas muttered, his low, rumble of a voice, tickling the elf's ears.

"I've never... fought someone as good as you... before."

Accepting the compliment now that her wrath had been extinguished, the woman grinned faintly, her white teeth glinting in the moonlight.

"Yeah... me neither."

The Companion and the Thief sat beside one another, looking up at the stars as they rested their weary bones.

Vilkas couldn't help but watch the beautiful creature sitting next to him out of the corner of his molten, silver eyes, admiring her slick skin and the way her breaths made small, white puffs of smoke as it mixed with the cold winter air.

His words were sudden in the peaceful moment.

"I apologize for the way I treated you earlier. I shouldn't have judged you so quickly." His gaze remained on the Bosmer, wishing that she'd take off that cursed helmet so he could feast upon her goddess-like facial features.

Willow blinked, unsuspecting of the apology. She suddenly turned to look at the powerful man beside her, meeting his moonlit eyes with those of her own. Pausing hesitantly, she nodded once, still watching him.

"It's alright. Most people judge too quickly, anyway. It's just human nature." Her voice was calm, steady. With a sort of caution in her movements, she held out her small hand. "Let's start over, okay, Vilkas?"

As his name left her tongue, he let his warm, larger hand envelope hers, giving an earnest, grateful smile. "As you wish... Willow."


	5. Chapter 5

Back at Jorrvaskr, Vilkas and Willow both retired back into their living quarters. Bruised and exhausted from battling, they took the time to get cleaned up.

Willow quietly escaped into the washroom, peering inside to make sure no one was in there first. Once sure, she locked the door behind herself and stripped the worn leather armor from her tanned skin, wincing as the material peeled her damp clothes away from her sore, grime-covered skin. The cold air nipped at her body as she slowly eased herself down into the steaming bath water, letting out a sharp exhale from her nose as her tired limbs were submerged in the hot liquid.

The feeling was heavenly.

Willow allowed her head to rest back against the edge of the tub, closing her eyes and trying her best to resist sleep. Her mind wandered and she thought about how she could have just went back to Breezehome after making it to Whiterun again. She would have had privacy there, more than she could ever want, and she wouldn't have to share her house with anyone. But she had to admit, she kind of liked it there in Jorrvaskr.

The Companions were good people. They may have seemed harsh at first, but she knew that they just wanted to make sure some weakling wasn't trying to get in their way of doing their jobs. And now that Willow had proven herself to Vilkas, her mind felt clearer.

She wasn't hurt by his actions when he first met her anymore; she knew now that he respected her as a skilled opponent in battle. Although they had made progress in their friendship, the wood elf wondered if they would ever make any more. Times were tough; she was the Dragonborn for the Divines' sake! There wasn't much time for anything in Skyrim other than surviving.

Willow shifted deeper into the hot water until it was resting just above her collarbones. The image of Vilkas after their fight creeped into her mind. His dark hair had been stuck to his forehead as he panted, eyeing her with ferocity and admiration at the same time. The tan skin that was visible here and there was glistening with sweat, and the cords of his powerful muscles were taut with exertion.

The way he moved, in battle and not, was so... predatorial. He walked like an animal stalking its prey, luminous silver eyes reflecting hints of the moonlight in his nocturnal hunt. His thick limbs were graceful, too, something most Nord men weren't able to pull off. He reminded her of a wolf - wild, fierce, hungry.

Her cheeks felt warm as she pictured his eyes again. Such passionate eyes...

Willow blinked, sighing softly. At the beginning of the day, she had bumped into Vilkas on accident, just another stranger to the man and to the Companions. By the end, she had managed to earn Vilkas's respect and had also slightly opened him up from his hard, outer shell. He was like a Mudcrab... Solid on the outside, but soft on the inside. Or, so she guessed. She really didn't know enough about the man to classify him as "soft," at all. But Willow did admit, the demeanor that he had possessed after their battle beyond the outskirts of Whiterun was entirely more pleasant than the way he had acted that morning.

Confused by the Nord's personality transformation, the elf connected his sudden difference in actions to be the result of her prowess in battle.

Long minutes passed as the woman was deep in thought. She finally began scrubbing at the dirt on her skin, watching as her body seemed to once again obtain its normal, healthy glow. The Bosmer dipped her head under the surface, rubbing through her long, chocolate brown hair.

By the time she was done cleaning up, an hour had passed. She tiptoed out of the tub, snatching a towel off of one of the racks and patting her body dry. Shivering in the cool air, she reached for her clean clothes, suddenly mortified as her fingers grasped emptiness.

All of her extra belongings were in Breezehome, other than her dirty leather armor and swords that lay in a heap by the bathtub. Panicking, Willow remembered how Farkas had said that if Kodak accepted her into the Companions, she would have her own room in Jorrvaskr. Unfortunately, she nor Vilkas had had the time to speak with the Harbinger yet, so her place among the group was nonexistent.

The small elf shuddered violently, the washroom's cold stone floor seeping into her bones from the soles of her feet. Glancing back down at her old armor, covered in dirt, grease, and dried blood, she shook her head.

No way was she going to put that back on until she had washed it.

Left with no other option, Willow hesitantly peeked out from behind the door, making sure no one was around before she took off to find Farkas.

Although she hadn't spoken with the larger brother much, she felt like she had known him forever. His bright, beaming smiles and upbeat personality made her feel comfortable when she was around him.

With Vilkas though, Willow wasn't sure what she felt. When she first looked up at him in the streets of Whiterun, her breath had caught at those aggressive, fiery eyes. Something about him and his dominant aura intrigued her, and she wanted to know more about this brooding, dark man. Now that she had proven her worth to him, he had acted a bit nicer, even going so far as apologizing for acting like an ass, but he was still quiet all the way back to Whiterun.

Obviously he didn't open up quickly to strangers, but neither did Willow, so she understood why he was silent. They had only just met in the morning hours of that same day. But something in her heart fluttered when he was nearby or when she thought of him, even when he had acted so atrociously towards her, and she didn't know what that fluttering was.

Practically sprinting down the long, unfamiliar hallway, Willow glanced quickly into each room until she happened upon Farkas's giant form towering over his bed. His back was to her, and she could already feel the embarrassment crawling its way into her body and through her veins like a dreadful poison.

Bolting into the twin's room before anyone could see her swaddled in a towel, she slammed the door shut behind her and rested her back up against it, breathing heavily.

The large Nord jumped at the sound, turning to stare blankly at the slender wood elf in his doorway.

"Willow...? What are you doing?" Farkas arched a thick eyebrow, his light grey eyes roaming blatantly over her slim form as she hugged the towel tighter to her body. With a heavy blush upon her cheeks, Willow sighed loudly and spoke in a rushed tone, obviously humiliated.

"Kodlak wanted Vilkas to test my strength so we battled in the courtyard but he had knocked off my helmet and I was mortified so I ran off and Vilkas chased after me and I told him I was tired of him being an asshole to me and we battled again and I proved that I was a good fighter but when we came back to Whiterun I just wasn't thinking and I followed him back here to Jorrvaskr and I needed a bath but forgot that all my clothes were in Breezehome and now I'm here." She gasped for breath, looking sheepish. Her crimson, elven eyes found Farkas's in the torchlight and she bit her lip, hoping dearly that the man she had known for only a day but felt like she had known him forever would help.

With a sudden great chuckle, Farkas grinned wolfishly down at the small woman. "So now you're in my room... naked... wanting some clothes. Right?"

Willow nodded silently, her cheeks flaming hot. The enormous Nord gave another hearty laugh and smiled easily, walking over to a chest at the foot of his bed. He rummaged around for a moment, suddenly tossing a huge tunic at the girl.

He rubbed the back of his heads as she effortlessly caught it, tousling his shoulder-length hair a bit. "Sorry that I don't have something more... fitting. It'll probably be like a dress on you."

The elf sighed gratefully, suddenly running over to the giant man and throwing her arms around his waist. Her head barely reached the lowest part of his chest.

Surprised, Farkas laughed softly, soon hugging the female back. Willow grinned happily.

She thought back to her life before Whiterun, how she never got anywhere close enough to anyone to even think about hugging them. She was too busy trying to survive.

It felt nice to feel another person's body heat.

Awkwardly pulling away, Willow craned her neck back to peer up at the Nord. "Thanks, Farkas. You saved me a lot of embarrassment..." She muttered. The man shot out a toothy smile at her, nodding. "Anything for you, little elf."

Willow blinked at the name, shrugging lightly at it. Her eyes roamed around the room until they landed on a darkened corner, and she retreated into it to find a small bit of privacy. Having some decency, Farkas turned his back to the woman as she tugged the long tunic over her lithe body.

He spoke to her from across the room. "You said you ran from Vilkas when he saw you without your helmet. Why is that?"

Abruptly realizing that her face was once again out in the open, she sighed. It was becoming a more difficult task each day to keep herself hidden away like she used to.

Walking over to a chair by Farkas's desk, she sat down, fiddling absently with the frayed edges of the oversized tunic. Her voice was quiet.

"Well... I hardly ever take off my armor, unless I'm alone. Not many people have seen me without it... I guess it's just a force of habit. I try to draw as little attention to myself as possible." Willow trailed off, not willing to share her life's story just yet.

Catching the hint that she was done talking about the subject, Farkas sat on his bed, the frame squeaking in protest. His gravelly voice was sincere when he spoke again.

"You shouldn't hide your face. You're beautiful."

Not expecting the sudden compliment, the elf's face flushed. She found his eyes again, giving a small smile. "Thanks, Farkas."

Vilkas's deep voice could be heard down the hallway as he walked alongside Kodlak, speaking of his battles with the much smaller wood elf.

"I tell you, Kodlak, she was faster than anything I've ever seen! Strong, too. Stronger than even a stout Nord woman."

Willow stared at the wall as their voices got louder, signalling their approach. Her heart hammered at the way Vilkas spoke of her mettle in battle. Kodlak's older voice was quick to respond.

"Find her and tell her that she is welcome to stay among the Companions. I knew from the moment I saw the fire in her eyes that she would be an asset to us."

He paused, his voice softer.

"Her trial will be tomorrow. If she succeeds, she will earn her name among our ranks."

Silence ensued, and the elf glanced confusedly over at Farkas. Not wanting the two outside to hear her, she mouthed, "What trial?"

The brother shrugged his shoulders lightly, whispering back in his low voice, "Everyone gets a trial to see if they're worth being a member or not."

Perplexed but too tired to question the notion any further, Willow pressed her hear to the door until she heard footsteps walking away. Murmuring another thanks to Farkas, she made her way out into the cool hallway, her feet bare against the soft rug.

Having not caught Vilkas's attention yet, as he was about to exit the hall, she spoke his name in easy conversation, as if she hadn't heard them speaking just moments ago. "Hey Vilkas."

The dark-haired man turned, his shining steel eyes curious as they looked over the large tunic that hung to her knees. He made his way over to her, and the smell of his brother on her made him uneasy for reasons he didn't understand. Noticing that her long, wavy hair was dripping slightly and that her armor was gone, he suspected she had been bathing herself. His bright eyes hungrily took in her soft skin, the slight curve of her figure, the fullness of her lips...

The roughspun tunic that hung loosely over her shoulders reminded him that he was going to ask her a question.

"Aye, Willow... Why are you wearing that tunic?" His voice was puzzled.

Hoping he wouldn't have asked but knowing he would, Willow looked off to the side.

"Well... I took a bath but realized too late that all my things are in Breezehome. Your brother gave me this to wear." She scratched her head, embarrassed again.

The thought of her being in his brother's room, possibly naked, made him quiver with anger.

Why was he mad? It's not like she had feelings for Farkas in that way... Did she? Did he have feelings for her...?

Willing his temper to calm itself, he nodded sharply. "I see. Kodlak asked me to tell you that, since you fought so well in battle, you're free to stay here in Jorrvaskr. You will have a trial tomorrow, and should you pass, you will be a true Companion along with the rest of us."

Thinking to himself that she would most definitely have a Shield-Sibling accompany her on her quest, he wished that it would be him. He didn't know what it was about this elven woman, but he wanted to be around her, get to know her... figure out why she had ran when her helmet had fallen off.

Willow nodded her thanks to the handsome man, her maroon eyes discreetly flickering over his freshly-cleaned hair and healthy, stubbled skin. He must've bathed too, she thought to herself.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Vilkas... Night."

She gave him a small grin as she made her way back into the washroom to retrieve her things, then into the living quarters where she would be sleeping that night.

(Phew! Long chapter. :) Each one is getting successfully longer! Hope you're enjoying the read as much as I am enjoying writing it. Reviews make me smile! Thank you to all who have already reviewed, followed, or favorited.~)


	6. Chapter 6

Willow had risen before anyone else in Jorrvaskr's living quarters. While the sun was still sleeping behind the mountains, she had snuck out of the halls, made her way to Breezehome, and prepared herself for her "trial."

Although she had no idea of what exactly her trial would consist of, she wanted to be ready for anything.

Glancing fondly over her old, tired leather armor set, her brows knit together and her bottom lip protruded in thought.

Should she wear her leather armor...? It was beginning to look a bit ragged... a multitude of tears in the thick material marred the surface and only added to the vast array of scuffs and scrapes on the apparel. It was still covered in grime and dried blood, and she sighed gently.

Maybe she should wear something else for today, at least... who knows what she will be experiencing later during her Companion's quest. The leather was beginning to lose its efficiency, too... wearing it each and every day had taken its toll on the sentimental armor.

With a reluctant huff, Willow gently laid the old armor into one of her wooden chests, locking it away with a satisfying click.

Looking down over herself, the tunic still swallowing her body whole, she pondered.

Beginning to fish through her belongings, she came across multiple sets of armor that she had collected over her travels throughout Skyrim, but none really seemed to catch her attention. That is, until she stumbled upon the shining gold plate of an Elven chest piece. She paused, holding up the armor in the first rays of morning sun. It caught one of the beams, sending it beautifully across the length of the small room.

It didn't take long for her to decide that this would be her new apparel for her quest. It screamed protection, and she grinned approvingly.

Tugging the breastplate over her head, she then found the matching pieces that went with it. The golden boots sat in the corner, and she contemplated if she should wear them or another pair, for fear of creating too much noise while trying to sneak.

Out of habit, she reached for her worn leather moccasins, pulling them on quickly and adjusting the straps so they would be tight to her feet and legs. The supple leather felt soft and familiar against her feet, reassuring her that she would be perfectly fine, should she desire to choose the quieter route during her trial.

Next to find its way into her slender hands was a dark brown hood. She slipped it on silently, many thoughts coursing through her mind at once. Rarely did she ever go anywhere without some sort of head armor, but this time, she felt different. Two people had already seen her without her helmet on, and things weren't as bad as she had figured they would be. No one shouted her identity across Skyrim or made her feel like she had felt when she was a living on the streets - cold, alone, unloved.

The hood was just a gentle reminder that she could take it off anytime she wanted to, without having to be weighed down by a cumbersome helmet that made her temples ache. It had been but a habit to keep herself out of view, yet now, Willow didn't feel like the same person she used to. She didn't feel like a thief, nor did she feel like she needed to hide her face from the world. She was a new person, with a new life, and she was ready to be a better woman, one who didn't shrink away from any unnecessary bit of attention.

Willow loaded her pack with health potions she had made herself, along with a few stamina and magicka vials just in case. The elven woman wasn't really one for using magic, unless the moment absolutely called for it, but she still wanted to be absolutely ready.

She tossed in some food for the trip, placing bread, apples, carrots, and a few other edible items in the bag that might be of use to her.

The last thing to be prepared was her weapons. She grabbed her trusty steel swords and hooked them to her hips, one on each side. She then took her two ebony daggers and dropped them lightly into her pack, followed by her enchanted ancient Nord bow, which she strapped across her back. She had found this particular weapon while raiding a tomb, and she had embued the power of frost into it herself.

Tugging on a quiver full of steel arrows, Willow let out a deep breath.

Everything was finally ready.

Feeling completely prepared for the journey, however perilous it may be, the wood elf headed back up to Jorrvaskr, but not before locking up her home.

The sun warmed in through the windows of the mead hall and Willow smiled faintly. This feeling of belonging was new to the girl, and each time she felt it, her heart soared.

Companions were milling about in the main room, some finding breakfast while others found pleasant conversation. Kodlak was sitting at the head of the lengthy table, speaking animatedly to Vilkas.

As soon as the dark-haired Nord caught sight of the elf, his eyes seemed to grow brighter, and just the thought of it made Willow blush. Thankful that the shadows from her hood covered her cheeks, she made her way over to the two men, giving them a polite dip of her head.

"Good morning, Harbinger, Vilkas."

The older man smiled genuinely at the woman, his head bowing in greeting. "Good to see you again, Willow. I was just speaking to Vilkas here about your trial today. We have been discussing who will accompany you as your Shield-Sibling, and he seems to think that he should be the one to fight by your side."

Vilkas cleared his throat slightly, clearly embarrassed at the Harbinger's blunt statement. His liquid silver eyes flickered between Willow and Kodlak, and he spoke quickly in response. "I... just think that, since we were both matched in skill in our previous battles, we would be compatible as Shield-Siblings. She knows my fighting style, and I, hers."

The Nord man let his restless gaze settle on Willow's armor, and he felt heat course through his body at the way the thin, durable gold fit snugly against every curve of her feminine figure.

As soon as he had realized it was her walking towards them, Vilkas had been awestruck. How could she look so good in anything she wore? It was a crime to be that attractive... even when she had spoken with him in the hallway the night before, his brother's frayed tunic hanging to her knees, the woman had still been amazingly appealing to the Nord.

Vilkas tried to push the images from his mind, lest he completely forget about the task at hand - convincing Kodlak that he was the man for the job of accompanying the wood elf.

The white-haired man eyed the fiery Companion quietly, a very vague smile pulling at one corner of his lips. With a nod of his head, his voice rumbled again. "Aye, then it is done. Vilkas, you will go with Willow on her journey."

The man's wise eyes found the small elf.

"You will be responsible for retrieving the fragment of Wuuthrad. Bring it back safely from Dustman's Cairn, and you will be formally inducted into our ranks. I have faith in you, Willow."

With that, the Harbinger turned back to the table and began conversing with Skjor, a member whom the wood elf had spoken little with.

Vilkas stood, and even being shorter than his brother, he still loomed overtop of the female. He stared down at her with a fiery expression in his steel eyes, his heavy armor scrubbed clean and his great sword free of any dirt or blood.

"Are you ready, little one?" The Nord's silken, accented voice, coupled with the pet name, made Willow shudder under her golden apparel.

She nodded once, quickly making her way out the doors with her Shield-Sibling trailing close behind. The nickname had a totally different effect on her than Farkas's did; with the taller brother, Willow felt like a younger sister. With Vilkas, the name made her nerve endings catch fire, for some reason.

The two traveled outside of Whiterun's large gates before speaking to one another. Vilkas had been watching her out of the corner of his eye the entire time, praying to the Gods that a strong wind would rip that hood from her head and let him see her soft features again. Sweet Divines, what he wouldn't do to catch a glimpse of those piercing, wide burgundy eyes, framed with thick, long lashes that fluttered unknowingly across her cheeks whenever she looked at him...

He sighed to himself, his head swimming. He obviously couldn't deny that he felt something for this petite, feisty elven woman... ever since she showed him just how powerful she could truly be, and ever since he saw that gorgeous face of hers, he couldn't get her off of his mind. By the Gods, he had only known the woman for two days and she was already clouding his thoughts so much that he couldn't sleep! He had spent hours last night reliving their battles, watching her shocked expression as her helmet flew off, seeing her gasping for breath after they had fought beyond Whiterun's limits...

He suddenly frowned. Why had she been so flustered about showing her face, anyway? He took a deep breath, gathering the boldness to ask, quite sure that she wouldn't answer either way.

"Willow..." He faltered as she turned to face him, her hood pulling back ever-so-slightly. Those red eyes, smoldering like the embers of a fire that will never be extinguished, gazed at him from under the hat. He swallowed softly, keeping his eyes on hers as he spoke to gauge her reaction.

"Why did you run away when your helmet came off...?" He breathed lightly before continuing again.

"Why... do you keep your face hidden?" His voice was gentle, almost hard to hear.

Willow slowed walking a bit, biting her lip underneath the hood. Gods, how she had hoped he of all people wouldn't ask that question...

Hesitantly, the wood elf cleared her throat. Her voice was cautious. She didn't want to get into her past anytime soon, so she kept it simple, just like she had with Farkas.

"Well... It's just been a habit for me. I've never really went anywhere without something covering my face in some way... so, I guess it just really surprised me when you knocked it off. I had thought you would... I don't know what I thought you would do. Maybe part of it was that I just recently found out I'm the Dragonborn... but I don't want to be treated any differently because of it. I'm still the same girl... and, when you saw my face, I guess I thought that since you had an image to put with the name, you would go around blabbing about me being the "savior of Skyrim." She stopped quietly, letting out a deep sigh.

"I have to take this realization that I'm supposedly going to save all the land step by step, or it's going to overwhelm me."

Looking up into Vilkas's silver eyes, she was surprised to see that they were full of understanding. Her companion stopped walking, everything about his appearance seeming sincere.

"Willow... You should have told me that from the beginning. When my brother told me who you were, I was..." His eyes fell to the ground, shame in his irises. "I was angry. I thought that the Dragonborn would have been someone else, someone more..." He scratched the back of his head apologetically. "Forgive me for lack of a better word, but... someone more fitting, I guess you could say. But I realize now that a burden such as that is a heavy one, indeed... not one that should be dealt with alone." Reaching out, he hesitantly placed a large hand on the woman's armored shoulder, easily engulfing it entirely.

His smoldering eyes locked with her own maroon ones.

"I know... that I was too quick to judge in the beginning, and I understand if you don't trust me yet. But now I'm not blinded by ignorance, and I want you to know that you're not alone in all of this. The Companions are behind you a hundred percent - I'm... behind you a hundred percent." He swallowed gently, seeming cautious, as if he didn't want to scare the girl away by his change in demeanor.

Completely caught off guard by the man's heartfelt words, Willow stared silently at the large Nord man, her lips parted but no words forming.

Taking her speechless behavior as uneasiness, Vilkas let his hand fall back to his side and nodded, continuing to walk.

Realizing the depth of his admittance, the elf trotted back up beside him, smiling quietly.

"Thank you, Vilkas. That really means a lot. Especially coming from the man who looked as though he wanted to kill me just yesterday morning..." She let out a soft snicker, slowly reaching up to tug away her hood. The light breeze untucked her hair from her armor, tousling it with its playful fingers.

Vilkas looked over at the movement, surprised to see the woman's full face, completely in plain view.

He felt his lips curl up into a wolfish grin, Willow's acceptance of his apology bringing forth a whole new level of boldness from within himself.

His velvety chuckle tickled her pointed ears.

"You should think about keeping your hood off more often... No need to cover up a pretty face like that." Smirking lightheartedly at the girl's appalled reaction and red cheeks, Vilkas tore his fiery eyes from her elven features and began down the road once again.

(Thanks so much for all the reviews! They always make me smile. (: I'm really getting into this story now that people are telling me how much they enjoy it, too! More to come soon.~ Love goes out to all who take the time to read my story!)


	7. Chapter 7

Willow and Vilkas talked pleasantly on the journey to Dustman's Cairn. It was nothing more than small conversation about things like the weather or the animals that passed by, but it was better than traveling in silence.

The two were making progress as friends, however slow it might have been, and it made Willow's heart flutter at times. She would often catch the Nord man looking over at her from his peripheral vision, and he would hurriedly busy his stare on the scenery or the map in his hands when he realized that she was stealing fleeting glances at him, as well.

Their thoughts were constantly reeling.

Did he feel something for her? Is that why he couldn't get her off his mind and why he just _had _to make sure that he was her Shield-Sibling on this quest?

Did she have feeling for _him? _Is that why her heartbeat increased ten fold whenever he was nearby and why she could so easily forgive him for how he had first treated her?

The trip to their destination was relatively danger-free. They had ran into but one cluster of pillaging bandits on the way, of which they easily picked off one by one, Willow with her bow atop a close hill and Villas with his powerful greatsword.

Their teamwork was astounding in its efficiency. It was as if they knew each other's moves and used this to their advantage.

As they arrived at the old, dusty door of the Cairn, they stopped momentarily. Meeting Vilkas's glowing, melted-silver eyes, the nimble elven girl let out a steady breath.

"Ready to do this?"

The white of the man's teeth flashed as he spoke confidently.

"Ready as I'll ever be. Lead the way, little elf."

Willow grinned only to herself at the name, secretly wishing he would use it more often. Her agile fingers wrenched open the deteriorating door and they stepped inside into the darkness.

Immediately, the cold, damp air from within the Cairn hit them like a brick wall, and Willow shivered underneath her already cool Elven armor.

The silence was only broken briefly by the quiet dripping of water droplets from the rocky ceiling. The two companions breaths created small puffs of smoke in the frigid atmosphere.

Vilkas remained vigilant, close by the small elf's side, his eyes reflecting what little light could be gathered from the virtually pitch-blackness. He stayed quiet as they ventured deeper into the depths of the dungeon, his body unnaturally stiff as he strained his senses to make sure that nothing would come at them while they were unprepared. His muscles were rigid as his protective instincts kicked in, urging him to defend what was important to him.

He realized, in that moment, that the most important thing to him was Willow.

The woman whom he had just met little more than a day ago, had already stolen his empty heart. He had never really believed in love; physical attraction was about all he ever felt towards a woman, but never had he been so quickly and irrevocably attached emotionally, mentally, or physically, to another being...

This vivacious, spirited young elf had snatched his heart and ran off with it faster than he ever thought possible. And he would do anything to keep that girl safe, now that he had finally came to terms with his feelings for her.

Willow's soft-soled moccasins made relatively no noise as they proceeded into one of the main rooms of the Cairn, her bow poised and an arrow ready to fly.

Villas crouched behind the elf as she aimed her weapon at the head of an unsuspecting Draugr, sending the bladed tip of the arrow straight into its rotting forehead and straight out through the other side.

With a triumphant grin, Willow trotted along silently, glancing back over her shoulder at her follower. She offered a playful smirk, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

"Beat that.~" She murmured, swaying off towards another tunnel, but not before kneeling to expertly pick the lock of a nearby treasure chest, rooting through its contents until she decided that she wanted the gold and the ruby gemstone that it held.

The Nord blinked at the competitive remark, his lips curling up into a half a smile as he lightly brushed past the elf. His smouldering silver eyes were surprisingly mischievous as he continued on.

"Aye... I will."

Willow sniggered to herself, her shockingly red eyes unabashedly washing over his masculine form as he led the way towards another room in the cavern. Her gaze approvingly paused on just the right places, noting how his shoulders were broad and his back dipped down to meet the gentle curve of his likely-toned backside...

The girl blushed faintly as she realized where her stare had stopped. She shook her head, forcing her eyes up to the man's shaggy, almost black hair.

As they pushed their way forward, Vilkas spotted a stone coffin leaned up against the wall. He smirked, the beast inside of him wanting desperately to impress the woman right behind him.

He tiptoed over to the container, wrinkling his nose at the inch-thick layer of dust that had settled on the surface. With a lift of one of his dark eyebrows, his gaze locked on the girl in front of him, the man lightly tapped the coffin with the hilt of his steel sword.

As if on cue, a taller, stronger-looking Draugr adorned in ancient armor came tumbling out of the stone enclosure, letting out a piercing screech. Its eye sockets fell on the elf and she blinked, looking back and forth between Vilkas and the undead figure, trying to figure out her companion's next move.

Suddenly the Nord sent his sharpened blade right through the creature's greying neck, using the momentum from the blow to twist the sword back into the undead's ribs, slicing it clean in half.

Willow stared as remnants of the beast piled onto the floor, its head rolling towards her. With a grimace, she kicked it away so its black eye pits wouldn't be staring into her soul with its rotting mouth hanging open.

Flicking her gaze up to Vilkas, she gave a small smile.

"I guess that'll do, Nord."

With a light chuckle, she scampered on through the next tunnel, stopping dead in her tracks as she entered a medium-sized room completely covered in blanket after blanket of spiderwebs.

Willow stood like a statue, so motionless that it was as if her heart had stopped beating. Vilkas came jogging up behind her, also stopping when be realized what this room was.

"Ah... a spider's lair. Haven't seen any of these in a long time."

At the woman's silence, he glanced over at her, frowning worriedly at the oddly pale color of her normally tanned skin.

Vilkas placed a feather-light hand on her shoulder, the shadows from his hair darkening his eyes.

"Willow...? Are you alright?" He shook her gently, his heart stuttering a bit at the intense fear in her vermillion eyes.

Before she could form an answer, an enormous spider came crawling down from the ceiling, its beady eyes glaring at the two as it spiraled downwards. Along with it dropped many other smaller arachnids, and they all abruptly came rushing towards the elf once they hit the ground.

As reality set in, Willow panicked, her hands shaking as adrenaline forced its way through her constricted veins like a tsunami. She immediately ripped her two swords free from their sheaths on her slender hips, gasping as her materialized worst fears came lumbering straight for her.

Blindly, the elf began stabbing, the image of the giant spiders forever etched into her mind as they shot out globs of webs at her body.

The largest of them all found her first, but was too slow; Willow instantly hacked off one of its long, hairy legs and shuddered as it fell twitching to the cold stone floor in a puddle of its own dark blood. The creature let out a deafening roar, its monstrous fangs shooting out to latch painfully onto the woman's shoulder. She cried out in pain, jabbing and slashing frantically at the beast, her heart hammering against her heaving chest.

Vilkas, in the midst of battling off three of the younger creatures at once, flinched at the sound of Willow's agony-filled scream. He snarled, his inner beast fueling him with an extra dosage of strength and speed. Lobbing off the three spiders' heads at once, he lunged at the biggest arachnid, gouging out multiple eyes as his blade pierced through its thick skull.

The beast shook the earth with its ravenous screech, blood splattering to the floor as Vilkas tore relentlessly at its failing limbs with his bare hands. With a dominant fire exploding in his eyes, he let loose a gutteral growl from within the recesses of his throat, his blade crashing down through the spider's neck and removing its head from its natural position.

All was suddenly still.

Countless arachnid carcasses littered the ground, crimson pools forming at each.

Breathing erraticly in his fury, Vilkas looked over at Willow who lay crumpled on the rocks, her lifeless body already unnaturally still.

He felt his blood run cold as he dropped to her side, softly pulling her onto his lap so he could peer down at her pale face.

"Willow...? Willow, can you hear me? Please answer..." His deep voice cracked in anguish at the end of his pleas, his arms trembling as the panic set in.

Trying to calm his racing heart and mind, Vilkas looked over her small body, attempting to find the source of her injury. A warmth between his fingertips made him go rigid and he lifted the elf up slightly more, her long hair touching the floor.

Two deep, swollen wounds slowly oozing blood were visible on her left shoulder; the beast had apparently been powerful enough to crunch straight through the Elven plates and release a heart-stopping poison into her bloodstream.

Fearfully, Vilkas tried to remember everything he had ever learned about healing and alchemy.

Spotting a leather pack slung over Willow's thin shoulders, the man hurriedly scrambled to take it off, fishing shakily through everything in it.

"Damn... Damn it all to Oblivion! Where are the potions?! Please, Gods, let there be a potion in here...!" He cursed over and over again until his large hand closed around something small and glass-like.

He quickly jerked it out, letting out an enormous held breath as he saw the red liquid. Tearing off the cork, he placed the container against Willow's cold lips and forced open her mouth, letting the potion seep past her parted lips and down into her throat. He massaged her neck until all the liquid had been used, his heart slamming mercilessly against his ribcage.

He begged again, his fingers clenching into the elf's wavy tendrils of hair as she lay in his arms, not breathing.

"Willow... By the Divines, don't die! I know you're a fighter... Now prove it to me, damn it! Now is _not _the time to be stubborn!" He shook her roughly, his eyes burning as the corners filled with tears. He willed them back, placing the small woman on the ground before hastily tugging off her breastplate armor and tossing it carelessly aside.

He then tore open the top of her tunic so he could see her shoulder a bit better, wincing to himself at the a sight of the wounds. They had gotten worse in a matter of minutes, protruding and outlined in a sickly green color.

Realizing that one potion wasn't going to do the trick, Vilkas took a steadying breath, determined to keep Willow alive.

He rummaged again speedily through her pack until he found another health vial, and also a few ingredients he recognized to be healing components in an alchemy formula. How he remembered this, he hadn't a clue.

Looking around for an implement to grind the Rock Warbler Egg and Blue Mountain Flowers with, he found a nearby stone and crushed them together until a thick paste was formed.

Without hesitating, the man pressed his chapped lips to the woman's fang wounds, sucking out what venom he could and spitting it out quickly. Washing the retched poison out of his mouth with a half-empty bottle of mead he found in Willow's pack, he then washed the holes with the alcohol and rubbed the medicinal salve onto the elf's shoulder, completely coating the injuries.

Pressing the other healing potion to the woman's blue lips, Vilkas did all he could do and finished bandaging up the gashes, impatiently staring at her still form and praying harder than he ever had for a sign of life.


End file.
